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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26823193">all i wanted was you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebeasknees/pseuds/thebeasknees'>thebeasknees</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek &amp; Paul/Levenson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Evan is thirteen in this, Gen, Heidi isnt a good Mom in this, a one-sided argument, angst angst angst, he also has a little brother, its more of an argument, mental child abuse, mental??abuse??? Maybe??</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:29:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>705</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26823193</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebeasknees/pseuds/thebeasknees</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Evan was tired.</p><p>OR: A conversation at the dinner table.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>None</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>all i wanted was you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Evan was tired.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This had to be one of the worst days he's ever met in his entire life. Everything was heavy and clinging onto him. He barely got any sleep, so he looks like shit on top of it. There are dark eye bags under his lashes and it contrasts with his lighter colored clothes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he doesn't really care what he looks like.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He couldn't care less.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan walks into the house and he's greeted with his Mom's face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That doesn't happen much. And he's learned to enjoy it- loneliness can be fun when you want it to be. And he didn't have to deal with her 'are you okay' and all that stuff you're watching is affecting you like this' ' or telling him how absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>worthless </span>
  </em>
  <span>he is and how he never tries.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's aware. He doesn't need a reminder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She's talking about something. He's listening, silently, and she looks over to him. "Are you giving me an attitude?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He isn't't in the right headspace for this. He doesn't want to deal with this right now. He's so </span>
  <em>
    <span>tired </span>
  </em>
  <span>and all he wants to do is sleep and stay sleeping for a month. Or a year. Or twenty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As long as he can, really. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, I'm no-"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Is this about that phone, Evan? Is that why you're giving me attitude? Because you can't go onto that phone?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No. No, that wasn't it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm not, no, Mom, I'm not.. I'm not giving you attitude." He tries. Trying isn't really enough with her, but he needs to attempt to get himself out of this situation before it escalates.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>"Listen, Evan.."</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Evan- you're little cousins, I hear, do more than you. They do the dishes and the laundry and everything their parents tell them to- take care of </span>
  <em>
    <span>two year olds </span>
  </em>
  <span>and you can't even manage to take your little brother a shower. Honestly, you are just so </span>
  <em>
    <span>selfish. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I know I might say that I'll do it, but after a long shift, I really don't feel like it. And do you know how I know you don't even care about that?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You don't even do it for me. It's just so </span>
  <em>
    <span>sad that</span>
  </em>
  <span> my own son doesn't care about me. Nobody does."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's looking away, trying to focus on anything other than her voice. The wall, the little grainy stuff on it. He can focus on that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I give you everything. I do everything for you. I risked everything for you, and only for you to treat me like </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>." She scoffs, taking a bite of her food, and he doesn't say anything. The last time he spoke out of line, she had a two hour breakdown in the hotel they were staying at.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do you care about me, Evan? Do you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No. Not really. The truth is, he lost hope in her years ago. Years ago when she kept promising that she was going to get them out of their situation, years ago when she started fainting around the house and he had to drag her back to bed because she had too much to drink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shouldn't have to care about her. He would rather focus on himself and his little brother. Something that </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>hope.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he doesn't say anything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mom doesn't like it when you make that face. Straighten up. Blink back your tears. Make eye contact when demanded. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don't you want to be a good kid, Evan?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She huffs. Take another bite of her salad. "I did everything for you. I do everything for you, put a roof over your head, give you food and clothes on your back. It could be a lot worse, you know that, right?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nods.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You have nothing to complain about. You're spoiled rotten. You're selfish, ungrateful- you don't care about anybody else but yourself.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looks like she's done talking, so he starts to walk up the stairs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He counts them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She's mumbling something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I give you everything,"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One, two, three, four, five…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And you still complain, you still mope,"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Six, seven, eight…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"As a child, you had things other children beg for every night,"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nine, </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What could I have given you? What did I do to deserve this?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ten.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
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